


Agua

by nuritacobarrubias



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 02:58:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuritacobarrubias/pseuds/nuritacobarrubias
Summary: Three different moments in time, linked by the origin of everything: water.





	Agua

**Author's Note:**

> Archieving this piece from 2007
> 
> I used so many song lyrics here.

**“ _Agua de nieve, en tus ojos de cielo. […] Agua y sal, agua y sal; como el agua del mar que se va entre los dedos_.” - Rosario Flores -**  
**“Water of snow in your eyes of sky. […] Water and salt, water and salt; like the water of the sea that slips through the fingers.”**

  
***

A circle in the distance; the death circle. It gradually disintegrates itself before the intuitive far-off light of his presence. In between the shameful escapade of cowards, one figure stays the same; her.

The mist tries to hide - behind its abnormal thickness - the inescapable, horrible truth. He doesn’t want to step any closer, he doesn’t want to see the truth. But he doesn’t need to see with his own eyes to verify his deepest fears; he sees through her. She turns around, ever so slowly, trying to put behind the inevitable; and when he looks into her eyes, he can see written all over them, everything he’s been afraid of.

Death. Unfair tragedy.

The obscure grass, still damp from the sky’s tears, envelopes in its post-storm calmness the lifeless body of a child; his child.

Sudden emptiness; the void.

Watery blue depths; water of snow in his eyes of sky.

And even though she only met this man three days ago, she feels compelled to comfort him. She needs to try and ease the aching. She’s disposed to help him carry the weight of his grief. She longs to dry the salty tears threatening to stream freely down his face.

But despite of all her newfound yearnings, she just remains paralyzed, trapped in the field of nightmares, witnessing the greatest scene of heaving despair unfold.

  
***

It’s raining.

Water’s unadulterated state: liquid; the sorrow.  
His normal state, ever since that fateful day in August.

Days, months, even years have come and gone and he still feels like that very first day. He feels like he’s sinking over and over again in the sea of his own silent tears.

But even in the deepest lows of darkness, she still stands by his side. She hasn’t moved away from that circle yet, and she never will. A strange force drags her to him whenever his pain turns up.

And while observing the rain drops falling down from his window, he suddenly realizes it. She is water: constant, inexorable, pure, crystalline, necessary, indispensable.

She washes it all away.

  
***

  
**“ _Sin ti no sé vivir, que sufro más sin tu sufrir. Quémame en tu fuego, quiero morir en tu veneno, veneno de tu piel. Tápame los ojos y dame de beber antes que salga el Sol._..”**  
**\- Alejandro Sanz -**  
**“I don’t know how to live without you, I ache more without your aching. Burn me with your fire; I want to die in your poison, the poison of your skin. Close my eyes and let me drink it before the sun rises…”**

  
***

 

There’s no more pain, no more grief, no sorrow left. There’s just a hopeful conviction, a vague promise of fulfilment and a chance at reaching the highlights of grace.

They have stopped pretending they could keep this nonsensical, inner censure on their mutual lust. They have silently decided to stop upholding their defiant endurance.

The state of heated water: gaseous; the passion.  
Water vaporizes and dilutes itself in the air; running free, flying above it all.

He’s ogling her with every move she makes; an almost blinding flush of craving in his eyes; so anxious to hold her and so crazy to have her.

She’s breaking him with desire. She’s the inspiration; she creates and is creation.

They make love so blindly, so feverishly, so impatiently, kissing his hands, touching her lips, feeling their skins.

He’s watching the dangerous path that his hand is tracing, down towards the inviting valley that is her stomach. When she suddenly violently arches her back to him - eyes closed and lips slightly parted in pure bliss - he just admires, hypnotised by her capturing reaction.

And he’s sure he has never ever seen anything sexier or more beautiful and erotic before.

His mouth, then, gets lost by her waist, travelling through her naked body; sap for his thirst. She begs him to leave her breathless; kissing her hands, touching his lips, eating their skins.

Boiling point.

Moans, hunger and sweat blend gracefully in the air, forming clouding steam which clutches to the window’s glass, shielding the two harmonious bodies from the outside world behind a blurred barrier.

Living in his bed the sweet drama of her body coming. She is water. He is fountain. And he runs with her running, coming for her.

Riding the waves of ecstasy, she repeats, whispering over and over again, that she’s dying. And he holds her to him even closer.

Man and woman with the world in their eyes and his body in her soul, pouring itself out. Burning each other so blindly; caressing her body, drinking his mouth, setting the night on fire.

  
***

  
**“ _Cómo quieres ser mi amiga, si por ti daría la vida […] Razón y piel, […] pasión y ley, difícil mezcla. Agua y sed, serio problema. Cuando uno tiene sed […] cuando uno quiere beber, pero el agua no está cerca. ¿Qué hacer? Tú lo sabes; conservar la distancia, renunciar a lo natural y dejar que el agua corra._ ” **  
**\- Jarabe de palo -**  
**“How do you want to be my friend, if I’d die for you? […] Reason and skin, […] passion and law, difficult mixture. Water and thirst, serious problem. When someone is thirsty […] when someone wants to drink, but the water isn’t near. What can we do? You already know it; keep the distance, renounce the natural and let the** **water flow.”**

***

  
He had known immeasurably mournful days, but not one like this before.

History was repeating itself like a vicious cycle; following opaque trails, hunting unsustainable clues. Always inevitably flowing into, once again, another dead end lead. Unnecessary deception and unbearable pain.

And furthermore, she was gone.

It was cold outside; the thriving of winter taking its course, invading his spirit. But he couldn’t even feel a single thing; his whole sensory system was already numb to anything but the dull punishment of her empty apartment. All other facts were irrelevant.

The coldest state of all: solid; the icy heart.

The remarkable imprint that her fleeting presence in his life had bestowed upon him, was nothing more than a bittersweet thorn pinned regretfully all the way into his heart; a memory that would forever chase him, until the day his spirit could rest from its sorrow and allow him to take the chance to finally let her in.

  
***

  
The snow falls silently, engulfing him in a colourless world. The light she had brought to his life gone. Icy winds biting at flesh, penetrating the chest, freezing the heart.

The heart that is no longer needed in her absence – frozen in time until they can be together once again. Enduring the pain, like the passing of the seasons, existing only for the knowledge that when the time is right the seasons will change again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to JaneDoh7 for that incredible ending.


End file.
